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Author
Topic: What's your toughest moment girl? (Read 10148 times)

When I was a freshman in highschool I was in woodshop. I was the only girl. I thought it was a great class, especially since my drunk grandfather encouraged the wood lathe.... no kidding, he had a great set up in his basement. One of the (big burly) guys asked me to help him. The atmosphere was strange and quiet. I walked toward the table and the guy told me to come closer...so I did because I didn't think anything but ok, I'm the awkward one. As I got to the table the guy had a long sweeping brush about a foot long specifically for table tops. As as he pretended to wipe off the dust he came right at me and took the brissels straight between my legs. Ohhhhhhh!It was an automated reaction to kick him in the balls, with my Doc Martens. As his head fell, I kneeled upwards and pulled the back of his head to my knee in his nose...blood everywhere. It was a legend in the school, .....but each year has its own layer of absurdy, memory, and comic errors.

Someone brought that up tonight and laughed because I think about it every so often. So What's your's?

I think my toughest moment was when I stood up in a court room full of strangers and testified against my ex-husband for knowingly infecting me with the little bug. I took alot of guts to say your business like that in a room full of strangers. And it felt good to look him in the eyes while i was doing it. That stupid little grin he had soon faded away, when he realized I was there to speak against him and not for him. I have never felt tougher.

When I was 15 I went through a 3-day abduction/rape and had to take a month off of school because of raging infections. I went to a 'highly' exclusive private school. When I returned one of the social elitists thought she would embarrass me in front of the lunch crowd. She said 'must be nice for people like you to get to take vacations from school.' I whipped out a tit and told her to suck it and put a plate of veggie-something in her face.

When I was 17, I was stripping at one of the 'holes.' I was the newest (and youngest) girls. The other dancers tried to con me into giving up $25 to go in with them on a gram (of coke). I told them to wait for awhile. Their 'ruthless leader' came up to me an hour later and torted 'well, I guess you're not in on this with the rest of us.' I pulled out two grams and told her to kiss my ass. (how I got those 2 grams is another story).

I could tell stories like that all day. Some of the darker moments that were really tough to get through-

'83 - heroin withdrawal.

'89 - alcohol withdrawal.

'95 - Methadone withdrawal.

This last time- withdrawal from amphetamines, opiates, benzodiazepenes. That was the most severe and did some brain damage.

There have been several medical horror stories that did permanent damage, but I won't turn this into an all-about-me thread. I'd like to hear some others.

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I've never killed anyone, but I frequently get satisfaction reading the obituary notices.-Clarence Darrow

My older sons father was physically and emotionally abusive. He would drop me off at work in the morning, take my car all day(he didn't work) and when I would call him 12 hours later to get picked up he would show up 4 hours later. We were living together, he was not contributing at all, using my credit cards, we had no communication what so ever. We would fight like cats and dogs, he is 6'4 and muscular, I'm 5'9 was in shape then but needless to say I always lost. One night I decided to try to get away and as I was through the exit to our apartment building, where all the meters to the building were, he caught me and threw me head first into all the meters and dragged me back to the apartment and choked me till I almost passed out. The next night he came back early in the morning around 3 and woke me up to go to the store to get him cigarettes. Instead of going to get cigarettes, I went and called the cops. The cops came and arrested him ( he was out on bond or something) and he went to jail. A couple of hours later when he got his first phone call he called me and said "Don't you know I have Aids, you fucking bitch" I have blocked out a lot of that time of my life but thinking back I think I knew already that he was sick. A month or 2 earlier I had gotten dealthly ill and was in bed for 2 weeks and he was the nicest person I ever could have met and that made me wonder. But making and getting that phone call were one of my many toughest moments.

One of my toughest months- I found out I was pregnant with trip lets at 17 weeks. Two weeks later, the father left without a word. I got put on complete bedrest at 25 weeks and everyday I laid and wondered how we were going to survive, everyday I worried if the kids would be healthy or not, everyday I worried how I could physically take care of 3 babies and my older son who was 5 at the time on my own. Everyday I struggled to lay there in bed and make sure that I took my meds and ate enough to be healthy for me and the kids. Perfect strangers came in to help me take a shower and take my vitals, my mother came and made sure we had food and whatever we needed. What should have been a happy and beautiful time was complete and total hell for me. The kids were born at 29.5 weeks and just barely 2 lbs, the next 6 weeks were while they were in the hospital was a rollercoaster ride of tests ,tube feedings and more worrying. It has gotten better as they have gotten older. My mother has been my savior as well as perfect strangers.

Ok, now that I see how this thread is going, I can respond. I didn't want to be a downer. I would say the toughest moment for me was when I got raped on my 20th birthday. I met a guy at the club and we went back to his place. He cranked the music up, I thought nothing of it because I have gone to guys' places before and nothing happened. Well, he raped me...The first thing I did was shower which at the time, I didn't know was the last thing I should've done. I went to the police, we both took lie detector tests and passed. After that the police did nothing and considered it a date rape. And acted as if I deserved what happened to me because I went back to his place with him.

After that I didn't have sex for 2 years. I never went to counseling or anything.

My toughest time... man... there are so many... I don't know if I could narrow it down to just one incident or one particular situation. After thinking long and hard... I would have to say being homeless in Newark, NJ back in 1996. All-time worst year of my life. It was bad enough being homeless but having a drug & alcohol problem, HIV, in abusive relationship, attempted suicide, depression, etc... I can say, I was at my lowest that year. 1996... was hell for me...no doubt. I didn't want to live. I didn't value my life or well-being. Somehow... someway... I managed to get thru it by having faith in a higher power. I realized... I had to love myself otherwise I was going to die sooner rather than later.

My toughest "moment" was dealing with the turn of events after I found out I was poz, in Dec. '93. I thought no one else would ever deem me worthy and I knew my husband would die first, so I knew he needed me. Such dark thoughts at the time, sheer hopelessness......We got engaged a week after diagnosis, I still didn't know he was poz, and I had no one to talk to. We spent '94 planning a wedding, but the dark thoughts were in my mind, "What would I do when he was gone? Would I die in 8-10 years?"

He got cancer right before our first anniversary in Oct. '95 and I immediately took on the nurse role. It was during this time that past medical records came out, and I found out he had been poz since '88, he and his parents knew it, and never told me. We only had unprotected intercourse 2 or 3 times. He eventually stopped working and I saw him wither away over eleven agonizing months, during chemo and radiation treatments. I still thank God that I knew what was coming, and that I had a chance to "mentally prepare" somehow.

I still vividly remember guiding the pallbearers as they took his casket out of the hearse at the cemetery. It was a very hot August day.......The entire time I had this "smile" on my face, wanting to look strong and at peace with everything.

After that time in my life, I never gave up, most of you here know that. Burying my husband at age 26 in August '96 was the toughest. Mainly because of being young and having so many mixed emotions. I still felt like a kid, and life was supposed to be fun, not shadowed by death and uncertainty.

i think my worst moment (s) were as a child and the things i saw. I saw my parents on numerous occasions shoot dope..one time my mom shot it in her neck and "fell out"..i was horrified..but i soon learned that happened sometime but they always managed to come to...i have also witnessed my mom prostituting in our house while my dad was locked up...i felt so disgusted that she was doing that, knowing it wasnt really to feed me but to feed her sickness... many of the horrid things i experienced as a child, i know for a fact made me a stronger person and a better mom, I always said to myself i would never be like her, and aside my promiscuity and now HIV...im not like her..Go figure...

The emotional breakdown i had After i had to move back to Nj after my ex infected me and abandoned me and the kids, denied he was the father of my baby, was pretty bad too. I remember i was in my walk in closet and i was packing up my apartment in Fl and i just broke down...i couldnt stop crying..i was 9 months preg and huge...it was just my daughter and my friend there and my 11 yr old daughter just rubbed my back and told me it would be ok...i felt so ashamed and like a failure and packing just nailed the coffin shut , so to say...but hey, ce la vie...

You ladies are so strong...Sometimes I think my life was cursed and noone could have it as bad as i do, but i know its not always what u go thru as much as how u survive it...We are survivors!!!!!!!!!

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Live life to the fullest...

tendai

mine would be the day i got diagnosed. i remember it was raining when i got out of the building and we were waiting for it to stop and i was looking wistfully at the cars wishing i could fall under one of them. got back to work and locked myself in the office and cried as quitely as possible.

I've thought long and hard about this one. I've done the drug thing and lived through it. Done the bad judgement (and every guy I could find) and lived through that. Done the cancer thing 3 times, and made it through that. But, the toughest moment of my life was one I wasn't prepared for...ever.

When Mini was a baby, 10mths old - 15mths old, she spent a crazy amount of time in the hospital. Finally, on 9/10/01, the day before the terrorist bombings, she had 2 surgeries. One to put tubes in her ears and one to put in a Broviac - a perminant IV line in her chest. It was nice since she didn't have to get stuck for labs or IV treatments. It also allowed us to run her IV meds when she had her 6 gram-negative bacterial blood infections at home.

But, in November 2001, the day after Thanksgiving, and only being home for 4 days, she ended up back in the hospital. She was put back on IV antibiotics. By Saturday, she seemed to be doing much better and the docs were talking about sending her home and extending out her antibiotics another 2 weeks. Then on Sunday, I couldn't wake her up. Her breathing was shallow and her fever shot up to 107. I panicked and ran into the hall screaming for a nurse. I thought she was dying. More blood work was done, more meds. They put her on oxygen. Then, they left. I held her all day and cried. I was scarred to call hubby who was home with our boys. I didn't expect to bring her home. I didn't want to go to sleep for fear she may leave me before I could say good-bye.

Then, just after midnight when she was getting worse, I did the toughest thing ever. I kissed her on her head and told her that it was OK for her to go. I told, begged, God to take her. I couldn't let her continue to suffer. All her life had been about needles and meds and being poked and prodded. She'd never laughed or been happy. I just wanted her to be happy. And if that wasn't going to happen by staying here with us, that was OK. I'd rather her in His arms and healthy then in mine and stay so sick. I just wanted her to be happy. I fell asleep with my hand on her heart. I loved her so much.

A nurse came in some time after that. It was still dark. I expected her to tell me that Mini was gone. Instead she told me that she needed a transfusion, probably 2 of them. It would take a while because they had to radiate the blood. It took a few hours, but the nurse brought in 2 bags of blood and hooked them up. There was little change during the 1st bag. By the middle of the 2nd bag, Mini was alert and chewing on the tubing. By the end of the 2nd bag, she was holding her head up and drinking from her bottle. I'd gotten my answer. She was going to be alright.

2 days later, I took her home.

I've never told anyone about that night until now, not even hubby. Tough bitch...yeah, she is.

I was going to write about my son and husband and I got all the way to the end of my story and hit the backspace button on my keyboard and the whole page went back to the last page viewed deleting everything I had written.

Whats my toughest moment..geesh..too many moments I can even count them.

I was a drug user ..coke dope, crack you name it i did it..Do to being a druggie has gotten me in some very hot spots.

I had a gun put to my head after I robbed a dealer..

Met a guy who said if you let me fuck you Ill give up a few bags of herion..So we went into an abandon building with nothing but a mattress on the floor and a shovel standing by the wall..

First we got off, and then when it was time for me to fuck him, I said no way, ...So he got the shovel and had it an inch away from my neck, saying pay up bitchor i will ram this shovel though your neck.....

My reply was here's my neck as i stretched it up and said go do what you gotta do, cuz I dont give a shit ....I showed no fear, I didnt have fear, because I didnt care..

Well he backed away, put the shovel down and walked out...

The really toughest moment for me is when I pawned my mothers diamond cameo.Since I didnt have ID on me, my friend said use mine..so I did..We got hi and it was in the summer and I didnt have any pockets so I put it in herglove department....Time went on, I got out of the car and forgot the pawn ticket..

The next day when I was sober, I called her up and said give me my pawn ticket, and she said,,its not there, its lost...

Lost my ass..the bitch took it out and resold it for mucho money..It had two diamondson it and was worth alot............Long story short...Years later I found my great grandmother wearing it in an old black n white photo.....It was handed down to my mom from her grandmother, and I brokethe family tradition and have nothing to pass down..Plus putting my mom thoughthat pain and the look on her face was my toughest moment of all..

I can take guns to my head, and shovels at my throat, but I cant take hurting my family the way I did...

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Live Love Laugh and dance like no ones watching.Laughter is the best medicine, so try to have a laugh everyday..Even if your not feeling your best, think about something that was funny at one time in your life and work with it.. )

It was at the moment that I had to choose, using a syringe that was just used by an infected person or choose to not be able to shoot up. Being an addict of many years I chose the frist choice. That infected addict is no longer alive, and yes I got infected. Figured it was gonna happen sooner or later and besides wasn't sacrficing my get high. I knew at that moment my life would never be the same. But over twenty years have passed and I thank God each day for my continuing gift of life on earth now.

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Worrying is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but doesn't get you anywhere.

The stories shared are both breathless and backboned....the strongest of them all. My small tales of one on one survival pales in comparison to what some of you girls shared. You are strong, and you are tough and thats what keeps you going....that's what keeps us going. I thank you.

You know once upon a time I was a very timid person. If someone where to say something confrontational to me I would avoid them and try to go the other way.

Since Michael died I noticed a change in my behavior. Its like I don't give a shit anymore about what the person mouthing off to me could do to me. I say my peace and if they don't like it I don't care.

For instance. I was pulling into a parking spot at a grocery store. My car is a boat so I couldn't make the turn and had to back up a bit to adjust my entry into the spot. I looked back saw no one and when I was pulling forward again I heard someone bang on the trunk of my car. I parked and got out and a woman was yelling at me that I almost ran over her. I thought ok I was going less than coasting speed and I didn't see anyone. Its possible but not likely so I said to the lady calmly "I'm sorry I did not see you. Please forgive me" Bitch kept yelling at me while she was getting into her car. Just mouthing off. I apologised three times then finally yelled at her "Woman! how many times do I have to apologise to you. Forgive me if you want and if you don't I don't give a shit" and walked away.

I'd have never done that before.

Today I took Amber to the grocery store so she could get her WIC items and a few things to make her dinner. I separated everything on the belt with the little bar they provide. It was a 15 item or less lane. She had maybe 5 things in one section and 13 in the other. They where two purchases and as far as the clerk knew they would be paid for by two people. The clerk looks me with a smug face and says " this is a 15 item or less lane" I said really smart assed "yes it is"Then handed her my Kroger card.

I know its a small feat for some but for a girl as timid as I once was these little displays of mouthiness is proof to me that I've toughened up in more than one way.

Good for you, Win. I know it feels good to be able to say something and get it off your chest. It is really moments like those that I wonder why people even bother to mouth off to you in the first place. I always think they're life must really suck. Take care,Snow

Was it the time my mother hung me by my shirt on a cupboard doorknob and held a knife to my throat? The time I was gang-raped (at 16) and ended up spending the night - without medical attention - in a jail cell? Maybe it was the time I went to my brother (fifteen years older than me) for help and he raped me while his wife was upstairs with my nephews. Maybe the time I miscarried and my mother told me "tough shit, I'm not taking you to the doctor because it will cost me too much money" - I was sixteen. Being sixteen sucked. I never expected to see my 21st birthday and I've considered every year since then a bonus. Even more so now that I've got the lurgy. If you told me back then that I'd live to see 45 I would have laughed in your face.

When I was sixteen (did I say being sixteen sucked?) I spent three months in an adult mental institution. I'd been staying at a shelter for runaways. I was due in court and the night before I was told that I'd probably be sent back home, so I took an overdose of dilaudid I had to sell for cigarette money. I woke up in a nuthouse. They sent me to the juvenile facility the next day for assessment and I was told they didn't have bed-space for someone as well adjusted as I was, so it was back to the full-blown looney bin. A social worker talked over my assessment results with me and she said "you have a lot of anger towards women". Ya think? If you had a bitch-from-hell for a mother you'd feel the same. After my shrink met with my mother, he told me SHE needed to be in there, not me. Yeah, dear old mom; she was always quick to tell other people they needed therapy, but she was evidently perfect and in no such need. Bitch. Gee, do I sound like I'm still bitter? Guess I am to an extent.

Dysfunctional doesn't begin to describe my family. In 1937 my grandmother had a hysterectomy - a month-long hospital stay in those days. My grandfather went home to my ten year old mother and told her she had to take over her mother's duties as she was the oldest. He didn't mean just cooking and cleaning - he meant the bedroom as well. Over the next ten years he went through all five kids, including the lad. Can you say "fucking bastard"? My mother married the first guy who came along and a match made in heaven it wasn't. Poor guy, she made his life hell. He had type 1 diabetes and drank himself to death. He died in a VA (vet, not the state) hospital and I never got to say goodbye. He's been gone 36 years this May. It still hurts.

I was living in an SRO hotel in NYC when my mother finally decided to tell me about her childhood. I was on a payphone in the hallway and I can remember the scene vividly - including the smell of rotting garbage wafting through the window looking out over a ventilation shaft. I suddenly understood (forgiveness took longer and is still a work in progress) why she was such a horrible person and I finally knew that what went on in my childhood wasn't actually my fault. Knowing that gave me the strength to stop shooting heroin. I used to pat myself on the back that I kicked without methadone - I thought I'd "gotten away with it". Fourteen years later I discovered I had a souvenir - hep C - but that's another story.

I could go on - I've mainly talked about when I was sixteen - but I won't. (although I was about five when my mother threatened to knife me) Well, other than to say that my toughest moments in recent memory were the two times the fishing boat I was on nearly sank. Both occasions were pretty hairy.

Being diagnosed with hiv? ~shrug~ No biggie. I did the "oh my god I'm gonna die" thing when I was diagnosed two years previously with hep c and I was so over that whole "die" idea by then.

"...health will finally be seen not as a blessing to be wished for, but as a human right to be fought for." Kofi Annan

Nymphomaniac: a woman as obsessed with sex as an average man. Mignon McLaughlin

HIV is certainly character-building. It's made me see all of the shallow things we cling to, like ego and vanity. Of course, I'd rather have a few more T-cells and a little less character. Randy Shilts

<<<< Had to look up lurgy. I've never heard the word. I'll assume other americans will be clueless too so here ya go...

The lurgy (also spelled lurgi) is British English slang for an unspecified or mythical contagious disease, generally one considered inconvenient and non-fatal with obvious symptoms, such as influenza or the common cold. Phrases like "I've got the lurgi" are commonly heard when somebody is explaining why they cannot attend a social occasion, come to work, etc. It is also often referred to as "The Dreaded Lurgi", based on a Goon Show episode from 1954.

The term is also used in the context of playground games, where lurgi is often used as a phantom contagion or unclean quality, in a manner similar to the North American concept of cooties. For example, "You can't play with us, you've got the lurgi!" could be used when excluding another child from a group.

And yet there are so many people with similar histories that become long term inhabitants of the mental hospitals, or end up in jail, or worse...

Well my toughest "moment" was between 15-20. It wasnt easy before but those were truly the nightmare years, including many of the elements described by you ladies so far. Most of all it was horrifically lonely - a theme that would resurface later in my life as well. I wish I could communicate with others in similar situations back then, but I didn't, or when I did, it was not constructive, because there is something you have to go through before you stop lashing out at the world.

However tough those years were, and I always felt quite isolated with my "secret history" around normative people, here I see that others have had a much rougher time of it than I did. At the time it was pure hell but now I see that hell is quite relative term...

We need a whole new set of emicons to express what I'm feeling right now so I'll leave it at that.

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"If you keep one foot in yesterday, and one in tomorrow, you piss all over today". Betty Tacy

hey ladiesIts been a while since l posted, l have been busy my university work.The toughest moment was when l disclosed my status to mum after having to live in fear and shame for the last seven years. Initially when l told my mum l did not look her in the face, l just made it as a joke then after 3days, she calls me and says were you serious about what you said... about you having the erm... erm... as if she was denying the fact that l am what l am. l said yes.. mum, l have been living with this erm... erm.... for seven years. My mum started crying on the phone and started asking me about future plans and all. l asked what she meant cause, as l am concerned my life is sorted... l have a job, l go to university, l have two lovely children what more could l want.

I think my toughest moment was about two years ago. I found out that I was HIV+ from the boyfriend I had been with for about a year. He knew he had it. Then 4 days later my best friend(and ex) died in a car crash. I still have a hard time getting over it. I guess not so much the HIV, as much as my ex whom was the love of my life. I sometimes wish I could take it all back. Ya know? I still cry every night. I really need women to talk to. That's why I'm here. I can't seem to get my heart or mind mended. He was the greatest person I ever knew, and he's gone. I still am with the man who gave me this crap, but I think I need to go. Can't forgive him although I TRY EVERYDAY.

Jenny, hello and welcome to the forums. Please consider joining us in the 'dating' thread. It's not 100% about dating. That's where we women share our lives with each other. We'd really love for you to join us.

I was in treatment for drugs/booze when I tested positive and three days later, my first husband and infector died. It was extremely difficult to get through; so in a way, I feel your pain. One thing I had to do to get over my husband's death was to quit over-romanticizing everything about him.

About the forgiveness part, well, I have a little tougher stance on that I guess. I think that since I didn't protect myself, a lot of the responsibility rests with me. I understand we're all on different legs of our journey, though, and I'm not trying to discount yours.

Seriously, I would think about getting some therapy. I've been with the same therapist since 1991, and it helps tremedously. Again, welcome.

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I've never killed anyone, but I frequently get satisfaction reading the obituary notices.-Clarence Darrow

Welcome, Jenny!You have definately come to the right place, I have been poz for around 15 yrs but I just found this website a couple of months ago. All the women are wonderful and caring.I also got infected from a boyfriend and forgiving is extremely hard especially if they had knowledge, which happened in my case too. I agree, with Betty in trying to get into therapy. It will help you to get a lot of things off your chest and might help to lead in the right direction if getting out of the relationship is what you really want.My ex passed away from a drug overdose a month or so before I had my son in 98. Not the one who infected me but one that was a kind, beautiful caring person. He had just called me the week before to check on me and to see how I was doing. We had been seperated for about 4 yrs but still remained friends even after I disclosed to him. I cried everytime I drove my car for a couple of years, I think because he lived out of state and I would always associate getting in my car, to going to see him. It does take a while but it will get better overtime, although I still cry when I think of him not being around. I named one of my sons after him in his honor and hope that somehow he knows. We are here for you. I hope you become one of the regulars here because I think it will help you as much as it as helped me.Take care,Snow

I've read this thread a few times along with everyones post and couldn't decide whether to respond or not. And I know it's been said before but we have some strong ass women on here!!! After reading so much of our history I've finally decided to add a bit of my own . . .

Being diagnosed was definitely not my toughest moment. My toughest moment was realizing that even though where I am today is finally showing some resemblence of peace all the obstacles I had to overcome to get here were not my fault. I've always been hardest on myself and the toughest thing for me was to stop doing that. I always said that men have been trying to fuck me all my life as if it was a joke but it wasn't. From my babysitters husband requesting daily handjobs before sending me off to kindergarden, to my 7 year older cousin taking my virginity when I was 9 and then lets not forget my second stepfather coming into my bedroom at night after my mother was passed out drunk to have his way. Oh yeah and then when I finally had enough after my stepfather there was that all to vivid image of my mother dressed in a breathtaking lavender suit telling the judge that if her husband had to leave the home in order for me to come home then she was choosing her husband. For years I blamed myself for all these incidents when in reality all these things happened before I had reached 14 so I was a defenseless child. It took to many wasted years of destructive behavior before I was able to do the self inventory needed to stop blaming myself . . .

Thank you all for writing back after I shared a little part of my journey. I'm about to post a new thread looking for women who were knowingly infected by their partner. I have had a hard time until now finding other women in my shoes. Thank you all for being here. You have no idea how much this helps, well, maybe you do. That's why we are all here right? Jenny

"...health will finally be seen not as a blessing to be wished for, but as a human right to be fought for." Kofi Annan

Nymphomaniac: a woman as obsessed with sex as an average man. Mignon McLaughlin

HIV is certainly character-building. It's made me see all of the shallow things we cling to, like ego and vanity. Of course, I'd rather have a few more T-cells and a little less character. Randy Shilts

ah my toughest moment was being molested by my brother when i was 6 years old...it led to a life of random sex with guys who i thought liked me (oh the teenage/early adult college years)...

i cant stand him(my bro)..ive come a LONG LONG way..im really proud of all of my accomplishments.i was raped at 14.i was a virgin...one day ill go in to details.

the other one, falling in love with some one who i thought was going to be my husband...things changed completly...i dont blame him for my HIV status, since it does take two to tango...but ah its difficult but ill manage.

My toughest moment was 3 weeks ago when I stood before my church and told them everything I had been up to for the last 6 months.the first thing was that I am 2008 Miss Ohio Plus America, then that my charity was the Ohio Aids Coalition and that I had been doing things in the community to help others as well as speaking on the virus.. Then I had to tell them that I was HIV+ LOL yes, I got the reactions I thought a would and then some!! my other tough time was when a nurse yelled out directions to the idc clinic at children's hospital during my first visit!! and parents pulled their kids out of my way afraid that I might touch them!!! Needles to say that nurse doesn't have a job anymore!!

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"Our people die because of a lack of knowledge" Miss Ohio Plus America 2008

Wow Ladies,A few years ago before Aidsmeds & Poz merged, I was a member here, mostly a lurker but I did post a few times.Every so often I still look around on this web site & especially the forums.Today I read this post, started to cry & realised it is time to register again as I DO belong here.Thank you all for sharing yourselves like this. I have to pick my son up from school now but I will re-introduce myself & hopefully this time become a more active member.Wow...this really has affected me today, as many posts do... but this one really did it.

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"Life is a journey, not a destination"Steven Tyler of Aerosmithfrom the song "Amazing"